by Alyssa Cole
“Hold on.” Johan knelt again and fiddled with the clasp on the strap of her shoe, a band of sunlight highlighting the orange and gold of his hair. When he spoke, it was still quiet enough not to reach the others. “You should know that my stepfather asked me to bring you home because a newspaper article suggesting we were dating made the royal family gain points in the referendum polling. That’s what I was going to tell you. I’m not asking you this because of that, but you should know what I stand to gain before you make a decision.”
He tapped her ankle when he was finished, and the brush of his fingertips jolted her back into reality. A reality in which Johan, Tabloid Prince of Liechtienbourg and renowned fuckboy, had just asked her to be his fake fiancée, and then told her a truth he could have kept to himself without her ever knowing.
People always thought she couldn’t handle the truth, but he’d given her information she needed to make a decision that should have been NO. But really, what he was offering was no different than what Hanjo and Rognath and all of her sim dating heroes had—a brief adventure, with all of the highs and lows of love, but none of the risk. Johan wouldn’t smother her or try to hold her in place when she wanted to be free. He wouldn’t treat her like she was nothing but a weak extension of her father. She could end this arrangement as easily as tapping “no” when asked if she’d like to continue playing in One True Prince.
She stepped out of her shoe, but instead of heading for the bench to sit, she turned to him. Her friend who would help her like this, because he opted for the most dramatic route whenever possible. She ran her fingers through his hair, the silky auburn locks sliding over her fingers as he stared up at her, eyes intense. She might have thought it mattered to him, whether she said yes or no.
“I accept,” she said, and he grinned. He took her shaking hand in his and slid the silver band onto her ring finger, where it fit exactly right. The stone was the same blue as Johan’s eyes, and they were both twinkling in the sunlight that slanted through the gazebo.
Oh goddess.
She looked at her grandmother, chin raised to hide the panic in her eyes.
“Nya?” Annie’s voice quavered a bit, and it reminded her of her father.
Would you leave me, too?
There was a noise above them—a sudden summer rain peppering the roof of the gazebo. It came down hard and unrelenting, blurring the colorful flowers outside the gazebo behind a wall of liquid gray.
“Praise Ingoka, bestower of blessings!” Annie said in a steadier voice, raising her hands and clapping. “‘The goddess cries when good tidings arise.’”
Nya was confused at the sudden shift in the mood in the gazebo. “Wait—”
“I was worried, but this is a good omen. Your grandfather will be so happy! Both of our granddaughters have found their true love match!” Annie let out a joyous ululation, her anger apparently having been washed away by Ingoka’s tears.
Nya sighed. She hadn’t been wrong about the goddess getting a good laugh from her life.
“Not quite the reaction I expected,” Johan said from beside her. His hand slid over hers and she was certain he would remove the ring. Instead, he ran his thumb over it absently, then over the sensitive skin on the back of her hand.
She shivered; the brush of such a small, inane patch of skin shouldn’t have made her whole body tense in anticipation.
Of what?
She looked up at Johan, at the muted sunlight filtering through his long lashes and the contented look on his face. He glanced at her, and the side of his mouth that was in her line of sight curled upward. “We’ll just have to try harder to shock them. If you wish.”
His thumb brushed her hand again, somehow both a threat and a promise of what shocking things they could do. Together.
This was just an act. This was just a dating simulation in three dimensions. She would live this fake happily-ever-after until the end credits rolled, because even if her dreams were too big, they were hers.
She wasn’t going to let this one be a disappointment.
“Yes. Let’s shock everyone,” she said, and she meant it.
Chapter 8
Last night, when I tucked Johan in bed after the wedding rehearsal dinner, he was quieter than usual. When I asked him what was wrong, he said that he was worried. Worried that he would lose me, now that I was going to be wife to a king and queen to our people, and worried that his jealousy meant he was a bad boy. I will never stop marveling at how much this boy feels, and how he pays attention to those feelings. I told him that he would never lose me, no matter what. Then he asked me why I had to marry Linus anyway and I tried not to laugh. I just told him that one day, he’d meet someone special, and he’d have his answer then.
—From the journal of Queen Laetitia von Braustein, Private Collection of the Castle von Braustein Library
What’s the script, mate?” Tavish asked before taking a sip of his beer. He and Thabiso had stopped by Johan’s room after the subdued engagement celebration—a big party would take away from the wedding they’d just attended. Nya and Johan didn’t want to be those wedding guests, and besides, having a real party for a fake engagement seemed a bridge too far, even for Johan.
“Yeah.” Thabiso had been looking at Johan strangely since he’d arrived back from the gazebo, with Nya wearing his mother’s ring and Annie shouting the good news to everyone. “How did this situation arise? Because you’ve never paid her any mind, from what I could tell. And she thought you were weird.”
Johan transferred a crisply folded oxford shirt into his suitcase, laying it deftly over the disgruntled face of Bulgom Pamplemousse, who had been safely stowed away before his friends had come into the room.
Thabiso was one of the people that Johan didn’t lie to. Not really. But he couldn’t reveal that he was just as confused as everyone else. He’d spent the whole evening trying to pinpoint the exact moment when his last shred of control had been carried off by a passing bird or gust of wind.
When exactly he’d lost his damn mind.
He’d intended to find Nya in the garden, tell her about the annoying article in the paper, say he’d enjoyed their time together, then bid her farewell. He’d considered what Linus had asked of him, but had ruled it out because, well, he did like Nya. And he really didn’t want to. He’d been so close to making a clean getaway, but when he’d stepped into the gazebo and found her sitting beneath a trellis festooned with flowers and the sunlight pouring over her, he’d been unable to resist the fairy-tale bait.
He’d mimed for her, for God’s sake. He kept all photos from his miming phase in a lockbox, but he’d happily busted some moves for her without a second thought.
Now he could only await the despair.
“Weren’t you just telling me I couldn’t be a bachelor forever?” he asked, deflecting.
“I did say that.” Thabiso pushed off the wall and strode over to where Johan was packing, casually flipping the suitcase closed. “But I didn’t expect you to jump on the first vulnerable woman you encountered and ask for her hand in marriage.”
Ouch. Johan hadn’t expected Thabiso to be supportive, exactly, but was this how his best friend saw him?
“We already told you how this happened,” he said blandly, tucking away that bit of hurt. “It’s not real.”
“That makes it worse,” Thabiso said. “Nya’s not a woman to be dated and disposed of, like you usually do.”
Johan tucked his boxer briefs into a corner of the suitcase with four sharp jabs before allowing himself to speak.
“Are you saying that you don’t trust my intentions or you don’t trust Nya’s ability to make her own decisions?” He asked this carefully, though a cascade of unexpected anger at his friend rushed through him. Even if Thabiso didn’t know everything, he should know Johan. “And before you answer that, meng ami, remember that you have quite the colorful dating history and you met your wife while lying about your identity.”
Tav tensed beside them, as if worried he’d have to brea
k up a fight.
Thabiso stared at Johan hard for a long moment, and then sighed, relaxing. “Dammit. It appears my alpha persona only works Naledi.” He stroked his beard and gazed at Johan, worry still in his eyes. “Look, you’re one of my best friends. She’s my family now. I know you have a hastily constructed plan, but let me tell you, those don’t always work out. I don’t want either of you getting hurt.”
“I won’t hurt her. And she can’t hurt me,” Johan said flippantly, mustering his best frivolous Tabloid Prince smirk.
Thabiso shot Tavish a look. Tavish whipped his head toward Johan, widened his eyes, blew out a puff of air through pursed lips. “Mate. Mate.”
“It’s a PR stunt.” Johan shoved the bags of apricot candy Lukas was obsessed with into the front pocket of his suitcase. “You know how I am. I don’t do relationships, love, or any of that nonsense. We’re friends and we both agreed to this, and when its effectiveness is over we’ll part ways. It’s as simple as that.”
“Simple?” Tav chortled, pulled out a chair, turned it so the back faced Johan, and straddled it. “That sounds like a recipe for a fucking mess.”
Johan closed his eyes and pressed his thumb to the bridge of his nose. He deeply regretted ever having convinced Tav that sharing your feelings was a good thing. Now his friend was going all Maestro Tav, like Johan was one of the students in Tav’s European Martial Arts classes.
“And what did the priestess have to say?” Thabiso pressed.
Annie had called in the head priestess from the temple to bless the engagement, even if there could be no huge celebration. The woman had sat privately with Johan and Nya, stared at them for several long moments, and declared that they would have a long and fruitful relationship if they were truthful with themselves and the world.
Nya had gasped, and Johan had been startled, but he’d reminded himself that all it took to forecast someone’s future was a bit of insight into human emotion. He shocked people the same way all the time, and Ingoka wasn’t working through him. He knew better than to say that, though. He was a skeptic, not a jerk.
“She said whatever she thought sounded good.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Thabiso placed his hand on Johan’s shoulder, lightly. “Please do not hurt Nya. She is hurting already. And do not hurt yourself. You can say what you want, but how many years have I known you?”
“Not long enough to know that math is my worst subject, apparently.”
Thabiso wouldn’t be deterred. “I’ve known you since before the fast cars and late nights and flashing cameras, yeah? I’ve watched you grow and change, and I maybe notice the things you think you hide by fluttering those lashes at people.”
Anxiety clawed its way up Johan’s back. Johan played a role, and usually Thabiso played one, too: the friend who put up with Johan’s jaded outlook on the world and talked him out of doing anything too ridiculous. But now Thabiso was tugging at Johan’s mask, the one he wore even around friends. The one that he’d slipped on while standing over his mother’s grave, eyes dry and heart flooded with tears.
Thabiso released him, as if he’d felt Johan’s muscles bunch beneath his grip. “I’ll back off. But don’t think that those walls you’ve put up to protect yourself will hold. Some people are wrecking balls, you know. Ask my wife.”
Johan was really beginning to understand the term smug marrieds.
“Okay, okay, Biso Ray Cyrus.” Johan dropped back onto the bed, his hands behind his head and his face schooled into nonchalance. “It’s not like we’re in love or anything.”
And that was true. Whatever it was that Johan felt for Nya wasn’t anything like love. It was just a swelling sensation in the middle of his chest whenever he saw her or thought of her, and the desire to be around her as much as possible.
Besides, everyone was acting like Nya was some complete innocent, when she had someone texting her love messages all the time. When he’d asked if the man would be upset about their arrangement, Nya had become all flustered and said it wasn’t serious so it didn’t matter.
“It’s just for fun,” Johan said with finality.
Tav burst out laughing. “Good luck, mate.”
Johan sighed. He was going to need it.
“YOU KNOW WHAT we’re gonna ask,” Portia said.
Nya, Ledi, and Portia were seated in the small lounge area of Nya’s room. Pajamas were on, head scarves were tied, and a nineties rom-com was streaming on the flat screen. Nya sat cross-legged on the floor, applying an oil mix to her scalp and braids. The scent was calming, and massaging it in was something to focus on apart from her decidedly strange reality.
“What?”
“How did you go from ‘that guy is weird’ to ‘I’m going to pretend to be engaged to him’?” Ledi asked. “I’m not judging—you know I want you to embrace your freedom. I’m just confused.”
Nya was quite sure that Ledi was judging, at least a little, but she couldn’t blame her. It had come out of nowhere—to anyone who had never been privy to Nya’s more fantastical daydreams.
“I was gonna ask if they’d shagged, but your question is more tactful,” Portia said, reaching for a handful of popcorn.
Ledi took an unpopped kernel and threw it at Portia. “You and your fake Scottish accent need to chill.”
“It’s called ‘phonetic accommodation,’ ya knob, and I get teased enough in the tabloids, so shut it,” Portia drawled, eyes narrowed in Ledi’s direction as she loaded a whole handful of popcorn. Ledi trained another kernel in Portia’s direction, as if looking down a sniper’s scope, and after a stare down they both lowered their fluffy weapons. Portia glanced at Nya. “And tabloids are something you’re going to have to deal with, too. Even if you only plan on doing this for a few weeks, it can be really, really intense.”
Nya felt a stirring of panic at that—freedom wasn’t the only reason she had run from Thesolo. Some of the less professional journalists had tried all manner of ways of approaching her—stalking her in the palace gardens and even sneaking into her hospital room.
She’d thought she would be left behind once everyone returned to their daily lives, but now she was about to set out on an adventure that would thrust her into the spotlight. She wouldn’t be alone, but perhaps she wasn’t as prepared as she needed to be.
“I’m aware of the risks, but I think I must go.” She held up her hand and looked at the ring Johan had slipped onto her finger. The ring she knew meant so much to him, but that he still had trusted her enough to let her wear. “I’m like Frodo.”
Ledi rolled her eyes. “That’s a horrible comparison. You’re definitely more of a Samwise.”
“Oh my goddess,” Nya said, hand to her chest. “That’s so nice of you!”
Portia did let her popcorn fly this time, pelting both of them. “Can we be serious for a second? Like, I’m in the paper a lot with speculation about whether Tavish and I will get married and what kind of duchess I’ll be if we do and whether I’m good enough. And Tav, while I think he’s the hottest man alive, is in the paper a fraction of the amount that Johan is. So be prepared.”
“Speaking of that.” Naledi reached down and handed over a small travel bag. “Condoms, travel size lube, plan B, zip ties—don’t look at me like that—and more condoms.”
Nya tried pushing the pouch back to her. “No, it’s not like that,” she said, though she remembered the heat in Johan’s eyes. She remembered him saying he would debauch her if she wanted, and how close his lips had come to hers the night of the wedding.
Ledi shook her head. “Girl, look. We’ve all read this fanfic. You’ve sent me this fanfic. I’m not saying this is going to last forever, but I would be remiss in my duties as your friend if I didn’t send you out equipped.”
“Aw, you’re like the fairy godmother of safe sex, Ledi,” Portia said with real affection. “And you never know, Nya. Maybe you’ll meet some other dashing man on your adventure and fall in love for real. Better to be prepared.”
“No!” Nya
said. “Well. That is. I don’t think I can feel that way about a man without knowing him for some time.”
“You’ve only known Johan for a few days.” Ledi dropped the pouch into Nya’s lap and gave it a firm pat. “You never really talked to him before, right?”
“He didn’t talk to me,” Nya corrected. She didn’t add that though she hadn’t spoken, she’d watched. She’d fantasized, despite her odd resentment of him. She felt like she knew him, even as she was learning that he wasn’t quite the man the tabloids made him out to be—or the man he tried to convince everyone he was.
“That’s not better,” Ledi said with an eye roll. “And didn’t you tell me that you were done with spoiled, demanding men when I asked if you had feelings for Thabiso way back when?”
“Yes. But I think maybe Johan’s not really like that?” Nya was starting to feel unsure of herself. Was her father right? Was she just a foolish girl getting herself into trouble?
Ledi and Portia shot each other worried glances.
“I think he’s great,” Portia said. “But—”
“This isn’t about him,” Nya said firmly. Her friends were crossing the line from caring into coddling, exactly what she wanted to escape. “I want to be exciting, and glamorous. I want to do things without people worrying over me like I’m a child riding a bike without training wheels. Both of you already have love and freedom and respect, so you wouldn’t understand.”
Neither of them could know what it was like, coveting adventure so badly after being trained to believe that wanting anything other than being a good girl made her a bad one.
“I was too scared to live freely in New York,” she said. “That’s why I didn’t go out much, or make friends, or live the life I thought wanted. But now, maybe I won’t be scared.”
Portia pressed her lips together, then moved to sit beside Nya, wrapping her in a hug. “Sorry. We’re just looking out for you. But you’re grown and sexy, and you deserve some fun. Just let us know what we can do to facilitate your adventuring. I, obviously, can hook you up with a sword. Finest quality Scottish steel, love.”
